


Like Kings

by AudaciousBeans



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, I'll add more characters to the characters tag, M/M, POV Jean Kirstein, once I figure out who all is going to be in this thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudaciousBeans/pseuds/AudaciousBeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Marco is nephew to the king of Sina, and travels around Sina and nearby countries discussing trade negotiations and handling the merchant guilds. Jean Kirschtein, a well-educated commoner from a farm outside the city of Trost, travels with him, serving as translator, body guard, and companion. They have a relatively easy life, though things take a turn as Titans, people corrupted by dark magic, appear and suddenly start wreaking havoc on Sina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Kings

**Author's Note:**

> What, am I writing fanfiction? How absurd. This is actually pretty fun, though. 
> 
> I started writing a story and I named two characters Marco and Jean (a lord and his translator guy), and I had to try so hard not to replicate their relationship and characters in that. So! I decided to just make a fantasy fanfiction loosely, /loosely/, based on that story. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this!
> 
> And things should start to heat up between Marco and Jean pretty quickly ;)
> 
> Oh, and one more thing, finding out the exact ranks and titles people should have makes me cry, but I try to get it as accurate as possible. I'm pretty sure Marco wouldn't be "Lord" since his father is the Grand Duke, but I have no idea what the son of a grand duke would be called and I just like the sound of Lord Marco. Anyways, this is fantasy, so I can pretty much do whatever I want, right?
> 
> Okay, sorry, these long notes won't continue. I promise. But I'll adjust the tags as I figure out what's happening in the story. Right now I have a rough idea of who's going to be in it and why, but for the warnings, I'll adjust those as chapter where those apply are published.

“Did you hear about what happened in Shiganshina?” Marco asks, looking up from his papers.

“No,” I respond, stuffing a spoonful of the tavern’s mysterious bowl of goop into my mouth. It actually isn’t that bad, which is good since I am starving and this was all they had laying around.

“Apparently, these creatures attacked and practically destroyed the whole town. They call them ‘Titans’.”

“Titans?” I question. “Is that some ironic term for a vagabond band of dwarves?”

“No,” Marco snickers. He puts his papers down and begins motioning with his hands. “So I’ve heard, they are these people who have been corrupted by dark magic!” He makes a ridiculous face and even adds in some, what are apparently, dark magic sound effects. “They’ve become like giants! Some even as big as trees! They’ve lost any part of their former human self, and they have begun ravaging those who shunned them for delving into the dark arts, and they eat them!”

“That’s ridiculous,” I grumble.

“Yeah, that’s what most people are saying. Though,” he looks around and leans across the table, “don’t tell anyone, but apparently the king sent Commander Erwin to go check things out. So maybe it isn’t that ridiculous after all.”

Marco sits back down with a smirk and once again begins looking over his papers. I stare at him incredulously. If this is a joke, it’s weird and I don’t understand it. It’s more than likely some strange band of creatures from Mayou has wandered down from the mountains and people are exaggerating them—a common practice among the uneducated and vulnerable. If they really are how Marco describes though, how can he be so calm and smirking about the whole thing? That sounds terrifying. I’d want to get as far away from Shiganisha as fast as possible. Get inside the safe walls of Mitras. Maybe even leave Sina altogether.

I’m about to question about these Titans for a more thorough explanation, when Marco holds up a letter and excitedly says, “Look Jean! It would appear as if our next stop is Trost! Doesn’t your family live near Trost?”

“Yeah, but what about these Ti-“

“We’ll just have to visit them! Or you will, at least. I don’t mean to be inviting myself places I’m not invited to. It _would_ be nice to meet the family of stoic Jean though…”

“Ugh, why do you want to meet them so badly? I’m not really all that excited to see them and they’re my family.”

Marco’s face loses its happy, excited glimmer, and he says, “I don’t know. I just want to meet them. I don’t think it’s that odd of a thing to want. As a noble I have to meet all sorts of people, usually people I don’t really want to meet, and I don’t even have a connection with them. It’s just ‘Oh, yes, Lord Marco, I saw your father walking down the street one time.’”

I laugh at Marco’s imitation of a haughty, plump noble, one with a “modern” hairstyle and swirling a glass of expensive wine in one hand. I’m not sure how Marco managed to avoid turning out like the majority of nobles, especially given that his uncle is the king. I would think he would be one of the worst ones. But instead he’s managed to keep this enticing and kind personality. He enjoys staying in taverns, usually not wanting to bother with a local insert-honorary-and-snobbish-title. He says he likes being among the common people, seeing what they see and being able to talk to them, getting as close to experiencing their lives as he can without throwing his station out the window and buying a farm, unlike my father who really did throw away his title—albeit barely a title—and buy a farm. Marco is one of those special people who when you meet you realize how cheery life can be, and when they walk away everything suddenly seems dimmer, though you never realized it was dim before.

His freckles illuminated by the mid-morning sunlight, I smile.

“Maybe you should write them and tell them you’re going to be stopping by?” Marco more orders than suggests, throwing some blank paper at me.

I jolt back before registering the objects being thrown at me were indeed paper and so wouldn’t hit me because they instead clumsily float and land on the table in front of me.

Marco laughs as I ask, “So, when we will be stopping in the lovely city of Trost?”

“Oh, probably about a week, maybe a week and a half. I’m supposed to speak with the count there. We’ll just be discussing the circulation of goods within Sina, catching up on the changes to the trading laws, etcetera, so I won’t need you at all. Since that is the case, I am permitting you to stay with your family for the duration of our stay in Trost.”

“Marco, no.”

“You mean, ‘Of course, Lord Marco. Whatever you command I shall gladly obey.’”

He’s looking at me with that smirk of his, an elbow propped on the table. I grumble and begin writing.

 

 

Our horses had maybe taken two steps when the sounds of horse hooves on the cobblestones and the voice of a messenger calls out behind us.

“Lord Marco!”

We both turn around to see the incoming rider, a blond, middle-aged man with some stubble above his lip. He wears the standard uniform of a higher-ranking Sinaean soldier: knee-high leather boots with metal coverings over the front and meeting at a point above and out from the knee, and the light brown tunic—which isn’t really a tunic at all having sleeves that reach to the middle of the forearm, revealing the chainmail that lay beneath, and being open in the middle, running down the length of the wearer and thinning into two separate tails just past the knees, showing chest armor and white leggings which sport straps on each leg, undoubtedly holding daggers or some other small weaponry. On top of this, the overcoat, jacket, tunic, whatever it is, has a folded over collar, which holds ornaments displaying the wearer’s rank. A chain also connects the jacket across the chest. This man’s was held by roses, showing he is part of the general garrison. Finally, there is the thick belt, laying over the tunic and attaching the standard-issue sword to his side.

“Lord Marco,” he pants, abruptly halting his horse beside ours, “I have a message from you father.”

Marco’s eyes widen in concern.

“Is something wrong? What’s happened? Is everything alright?” he asks with panic.

“With him, everything is fine. But since you are heading towards Trost, your father urges that you travel with extra caution, and to be sure to stay with Count Arlert.”

The concern is still on Marco’s face.

I inquire, “What’s going on? Why must we travel with such caution?”

The rider looks at me. “It’s because of the Titans, sir.”

I like the sound of being addressed as ‘sir.’ People rarely do since I’m not a noble of any kind, or a knight. This man must not know who I am and assumes I am of some rank or standing, Marco allowing me to speak up like I do and ride as an equal with him.

“The Titans?” I muse. “So they are real…”

The man nods and turns his focus back to Marco.

“Due to this newly arisen threat, I have been sent as a protector for you, Lord Marco.”

Normally I would be offended that someone didn’t think I’m enough protection for Marco, not that he’s a helpless child who’s never touched even a dagger before, but I’m not liking the sound of these Titans. If they catch Marco’s father’s attention and cause him to send extra protection and words of caution to his son, then they must not be just some over-exaggerated, wayward creature created by the fears of the people.

Marco studies my face, and perhaps seeing that I’m not against this addition to our merry band, he looks back to the man and welcomes, “Well, we’re happy to have you join us. From what I’ve heard of these Titans, they don’t sound like something I want to run into.”

The protector bows his head in acceptance, and we begin our ride to Trost.

“What do you know of these Titans?” I question, leaning forward a bit and looking to the other side of Marco.

“I don’t know too much,” he says. “I’ve never seen one nor have I spoken to someone who has; I’ve only heard reports. Mostly from the reports Grand Duke Bodt told me about. I just know these Titans tend to be at least two times the size of an average human. The largest reported is said to be as tall as a three story building. There are varying reports on that Titan. Some say it spoke, commanding the other Titans, while others say it was just a wild, crazier Titan, smashing buildings and blindly killing people, unlike the other Titans who mostly ate people.”

Marco asks, “So, these things have leaders?”

“I don’t think anyone really knows for sure. What people see when they’re scared out of their wits tends to vary from what’s actually there, and there are so many variations in the reports, so we’re having trouble determining what’s actually true.”

“Okay, so let me get all of this straight,” I say, trying to get all of this straight, “these Titans are big people who eat other normal-sized people. And they are like this because they have all been corrupted by black magic?”

“Ah, I see we’ve heard the same things. That’s the tale, apparently. People who tried working with the dark arts and somehow became these awful, mutated beings whose purpose is to destroy those who have not accepted some demon god as their savior.”

Yeah, I’m really not liking the sound of these Titans. I’ve never been very religious myself, but I’ve always believed demons exist and been against the worship of demons and wary of the terrors they unleash. And now there’s an army of demon-worshippers who, by the sounds of it, easily destroy towns and eat people? I had thought they were just some newly arisen folktale, but if people in the government as high up as Marco’s father are involved and legitimately concerned…

“Oh!” Marco calls out, lightly smacking himself on the head. “I never asked for your name! I’m so sorry. What’s your name, oh protector?”

The protector gets a sheepish look on his face as he hurriedly says, “Oh no, it’s not your fault at all, Lord Marco! You have nothing to apologize for. I should have addressed who I was immediately. My name is Hannes. Formerly Captain Hannes of Shiganshina, and now assigned to the personal guard of Grand Duke Bodt.”

He snaps into a half salute, thumping his right fist over his heart, and takes on a practiced expression of seriousness and attention.

“Shiganshina?” Marco reiterates. “Did you have family there?”

Relaxing again, Hannes replies, “Eh, not really. No one I was close with anyways. Though there is one family I cared about, and I wonder if they got out alive. I hope they did. It’s not like I wrote to them or anything, but when I was still working at Shiganshina, the boy would often talk to me, though he usually reprimanded me for not working or drinking on the job.” Hannes laughed at the memory, but suddenly realizing what he just said, he attempts to recover. “Not that I slack off or drink on the job, sir! I-it’s just-work around Shiganshina would tend to be rather stale, and my friends and I-“

Hannes hangs his head, dejected. I don’t blame him. How embarrassing to tell the son of your very important employer that you would slack off and drink on the job. That sure does a good job of making a person feel protected and safe.

Marco however, being the eumoirous person he is, offers, “I’m sure you’re a capable soldier. There’s a reason you’re part of my father’s personal guard, and I’m going to assume it’s not because you would mess around and drink on duty. As long as you still don’t do that, and especially not here and now, then I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”

I am not so easily convinced though.

Hannes looks at Marco, grateful, and looks at me apologetically, but I just look forward and huff. He better protect Marco, or he’ll be the one who needs protection. 

Soon enough we leave the gates and before I know it, we stop and set up camp. We could’ve stopped a few hours earlier and stayed at a viscount’s manor, but, much to Hannes’s distress, Marco didn’t want to waste time getting to Trost.

“If we stop there, by the time we get to Trost it will be late evening. And that’s assuming we’ll be able to leave as soon as the sun rises.”

Neither Hannes nor I saw the problem in that, but Marco was determined to get to Trost as soon as humanly possible.

“I’m going to scout the area and gather more firewood,” Hannes announces as I’m working to get a small fire going.

Marco’s rummaging around in his pack, and finding what he was looking for, he walks over and sits on a log behind me as I’m still on my knees coaxing a small flame to catch the bigger pieces aflame.

“Hah!” I proclaim as the wood flares a brilliant orange, giving off that pleasant warmth.

I get up, wiping my knees, and sit with a satisfied sigh next to Marco. Apparently what he was looking for was his whetstone. He sits, sharpening his knife, with his elbows propped on his knees.

“Afraid we might run into Titans?” I ask, mimicking the tone of a ghost and adding in spooky hand motions.

Marco snickers and playfully shoves me with his shoulder.

“You joke, but I know you’re afraid of them,” he says.

“I’m an honest man,” I state, spreading my hands out.

Marco looks up at me, and I stop and stare at him, the light of the fire dancing about his face and reflecting in those eyes.

Slightly interrupting my ogling, Marco wonders, “Do you think we’ll run into Titans in Trost?”

I turn my head to the side a bit, glancing at the ground. “I certainly hope not.”

I look back to Marco, and he closes his eyes and lets out a quiet sigh.

“If that does happen and these Titans are as terrible as they’re made out to be,” I comfort, scooting over so there’s no space between us, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Well, and Hannes is here too, but more importantly I will be, considering you no longer force me to stay with my family.”

Marco rolls his eyes and shakes his head, changing his gaze to the fire. I, however, keep staring at Marco, and after a few moments Marco turns back to me, possibly about to say something or just because he noticed my staring at him from his peripheral vision.

But then Hannes bursts into the scene, arms laden with firewood, and he reports, “The area is secure, my lord.”

Marco and I whip our gazes away from each other and I move myself further down the log.

Hannes drops the firewood then looks up at the two of us. “What’s for dinner?”

I lean over and grab a satchel containing various food items.

“Newbies get kitchen duty,” and I throw the bag over to him.

He clumsily catches it and goes about preparing what would hopefully be a delicious staying-in-the-woods meal without complaint or comment.


End file.
